Apparently Mark Twain once said,
“Thunder is good, thunder is impressive, but it is the lightning that does the
work.”

I will never understand that quote.
And I haven’t even pondered the part that says that it’s the lightning that
“does the work.” I just wonder how anyone could ever say that thunder is “good.”

Especially after my summertime
camping trip.

It all started a few weeks before my
birthday, which is on the last day of June. My dad and I were talking on the
phone. The conversation went like most did – I asked how work had been going,
and he asked me about school (which was about to end at the time).

And then he told me. He got straight
to the point and said that he would be coming down in a few weeks to take my
brother and I camping for a night, “for my birthday.”

The reason I write the words “for my
birthday” in quotes is because I realize that my dad didn’t want to take me
camping to celebrate my birthday, specifically. At least, not to celebrate it in
the average “cake and presents” kind of way.

But, I have to say that it was a good
excuse to get us to spend another night outdoors. Either that, or after 15 years
he still doesn’t realize that I am not a son, but a daughter.

You see, my dad doesn’t exactly get
the fact that I, an average teenage girl, actually might not want to go camping,
especially not on my birthday. But I went anyways.

And he didn’t realize that a fishing
pole or a football game for my brother’s Playstation was never high on my list
of desired Christmas presents. But I got both from him one year, anyways. But
that’s another story.

Besides, since it was my
birthday, you would think that I would have gotten to do what I wanted to do,
right?

Wrong. A day before my dad was
expected to come and pick us up, I realized that there was no way to get out of
going now. So I packed my bag, and waited for the inevitable.

My dad came right on time. We were
soon on our way to the Misquamicut beach area in the state of Rhode Island,
which is about an hour and a half’s drive from my home. The drive was mostly
spent reading or engaging in the usual small talk, while my brother and I
practically screamed to make ourselves heard over the deafening classic rock
station playing in the truck.

When we got to Rhode Island, we
immediately went to the campgrounds. It took a while until we secured a site.
When we finally did, we went to go inspect it. My dad hated our spot, because it
was tiny compared to others around it. So we went back to the main office, and
got the exact same one that we had last time we went camping.

The evening went by fine. Nothing
worth mentioning really happened – we just checked out the beach for a little
while and grabbed a bite to eat at the local Friendly’s.

When we got back to the site, my dad
wanted to build a campfire. Little did we know that my dad had a very specific
way of placing the wood into the pit, so my brother and I started chucking wood
in. And then, a few minutes later my father took it all out, only to start
building the fire all over again.

Finally when the fire was
satisfyingly large, the three of us sat down at the picnic table to enjoy it. It
was actually nice, sitting there in the dim light from the fire, quietly
enjoying each other’s company.

Unfortunately the feeling of complete
happiness ended all too soon, as most do. Just as I was thinking about the
marshmallows that were sitting in a kitchen cabinet at home, I felt the sting on
my arm. It was the sting of a bloodthirsty mosquito.

Man, I thought. How could
we have forgotten to bring the bug spray?

Soon enough, we were practically
being devoured by the little suckers, no matter how hard we tried to fend them
off. Eventually I just gave up and went inside the tent.

I was lying there, feeling sorry for
myself when my dad and brother came into the huge, family-sized tent. Soon
enough, I realized I was the only one awake.

Just as I started to fall asleep, out
of nowhere came a sound – a loud grunting sound. It took me a while to
comprehend the exact significance of this sound, though. I just figured that it
would stop.

Little did I know that my father
would be snoring for what seemed like the next two hours.

As just about anyone – including
those who have lived with their father or have ever visited him and have had a
room anywhere within the same vicinity as his – can attest to, “dad snores” are
not your average snores. No, these particular snores are much more loud and
obnoxious and harder to ignore, no matter how many sheep you count.

Needless to say, I could not fall
asleep. As I lay there trying to ignore the noise, I thought about how it was
somewhere around one in the morning of my birthday, and I wasn’t even able to
fall asleep.

All of a sudden, my father stopped
snoring. You would think I’d be relieved and grateful that something woke him,
right?

In actuality, I thought, You have
got to be kidding me.

He was woken by an extremely loud
boom of thunder, which had followed a bright flash of lightning.

If, after listening to snoring for
hours, I had any hope that I would be getting much sleep that night (and
morning), it was gone within the next five minutes.

Soon it looked as though lightning
bolts were striking the ground around our campsite. And the thunder could only
be described as deafening – it seemed to be roaring louder by the minute.

There I was, on my birthday, first
not able to sleep because of snoring. And I was trapped in a tent in a
thunderstorm.

As most do, the storm got worse
before it calmed down. Every time I heard a particularly loud boom of thunder, I
muttered, “Should we get in the truck now?”

My dad replied, “Listen, I’ll tell
you when we need to go in the car,” as my brother said that it wasn’t even a bad
storm.

You see, if I was in my house during the storm
I’m sure I would have said the same thing. But because I was lying on the
ground, with a thin layer of plastic held up by metal rods protecting me from
the lightning, I was just a little afraid.

I know that the chances of us getting hit by
lightning were very slim, but even so, I could see the headline that would be in
the next morning’s paper – “Three Campers Die in Freak Lightning Storm, On
Girl’s 15th Birthday.”

All right. Maybe I was more than a little
afraid.

The storm went on for hours. Every so often,
it calmed down and I began to drift off to sleep. Then after a large crash, the
rain started up again and I once again sat there, very awake. Unfortunately,
this cycle went on for most of the morning.

I must have fallen asleep at some point,
because I remember waking up again when the sun was up, probably at some
unreasonable hour of the morning.

I looked around and could see everything
around our campsite, the trees, the dirt, and the sky.

Wait a minute… I thought. And then I
realized that my dad and brother had started to take apart the tent, and anyone
who walked, drove, or rode their bike down the road could see me sleeping!

You see, our tent has a large vinyl layer that
can be strapped over the main structure of the tent, which is basically just
metal poles and screens. Once you take off that top layer, you’re exposed to all
the elements – including sun, rain, and the eyes of passersby.

“Dad? What are you doing?” I asked.

“Hey, she’s finally up,” he said. (Finally?)
“Happy birthday!?”

“Uh, thanks. Hey dad, why are you taking apart
the tent if I’m still in it?”

I never got a sufficient reply to
that question. All I know is that they woke up early to go fishing and grab
breakfast, which was the donut that was waiting for me in the truck.

We ended up spending the rest of the
day at the beach. For once, the Rhode Island water wasn’t mind-numbingly
freezing so my brother and I enjoyed most of the day diving in the waves, while
my father fished.

After the night I had, I was
surprised to say that I was sad when it came time to pack up and go back home.
Once again we sat in the truck, surrounded by our stuff as classic rock songs
blasted on the radio. And I was actually glad that we took this camping trip
together.

And then I looked down and realized
that my legs were spotted in a bright shade of red that only sunburn could
cause. Of course, I hadn’t put sunscreen on my legs, in hopes that I might turn
a color somewhat resembling a tan.

Besides, who gets sunburn on their
birthday?

Help The Tattoo thrive! Your donation can help us continue to provide
the world's premier teen journalism.